


Perceptions

by frenchposie



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cold, Hurt/Comfort, sick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchposie/pseuds/frenchposie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert catches a cold and goes home to nurse it some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perceptions

“Heh-eh…”

The early rays of sunrise were falling over Toulon as the aging French inspector limped home.  While nothing could have been as taxing on his health as the project with the Royal Navy, there certainly were long tiring nights patrolling the streets.

Nostrils flaring in the early morning mist, he bit his lip to remain composed until he returned home.  It wouldn’t do to have the inspector Javert, menace of those who did not abide the law, showing weakness.  Even something as simple as a sneeze would make the undesirable wretches of the streets think that they could take advantage of his ailment.

The door to his apartment closed heavily, and he leaned against it as his head swam with exhaustion.

“Hep-SHHH-HAA!” he sneezed, spraying a fine mist of saliva onto the sleeve of his coat.  He wrinkled his nose in disgust and dug his handkerchief out of his pocket.  Blowing his nose thickly, he groaned.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t know where he had picked it up. 

_The lovely ladies that made their living by the seaport had been accommodating enough.  He had found that sometimes they would get chatting and he could find out where other undesirables were doing despicable acts if he stood in the shadows and listened._

_That was exactly what happened in this case.  He listened attentively as they spoke of lost loves, suffering children, making candles last, selling teeth, and the man paying them in silver spoons.  He had heard that the silversmith was suspicious that one of his workmen was stealing from him.   Javert had heard of being fed with a silver spoon or even born with one in the mouth.  But, he had never heard of someone being paid with one._

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up neatly.  He sniffled lightly as his nose started to twitch again.  “Ugh,” he groaned, putting the kettle onto boil.  Tea.  He needed a nice warm cup of tea, then to read the morning report, and finally bed. 

“SHHHH-HAA!  Ep-Shoo!”  He caught these sneezes in his handkerchief and neatly folded his shirt before sticking it in the laundry bag.  He would bring the nearly full bag to the lauderer in the morning.  After he finished changing into his sleep shift and robe, he pulled the kettle off the stove and steeped his tea.

He sat down with a groan and picked up the morning post.   “Ee-hep-SHOO!” he sneezed wetly, spraying the paper as he opened it before him.  Disgusted, he groaned as he shook off the paper.  He reached over and sipped his tea.   The warm liquid caused goosebumps to raise up over his arms.   He coughed lightly.  Putting the paper down, he picked up his handkerchief and blew his nose again.

_The workman was utilizing the blacksmith’s fire to melt down the spoons into liquid.  The two of them were laughing when Javert walked up.  Quickly, their jovial faces turned serious as they greeted the inspector.  Javert tried to talk to them like men, explain the situation and hoped for a confession.  He was ill prepared to be pushed into the horse trough as the workman ran past him – shouldering him out of the way in the process.  He had continued his rounds, slowly drying in the moonlight and the chilly autumn wind.  Not long before dawn his nose had begun to itch and then the headache set in.  He knew he had a long day of suffering while he should be sleeping ahead of him_.

 


End file.
